


Anton Makes a Sandwich

by seven (sevenpoints)



Series: (I love you) I'm not gonna crack [2]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpoints/pseuds/seven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anton and his Kiwi Bastard set their sights on Captain Fine. Porn ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anton Makes a Sandwich

“Does Chris seem a little wound up to you?”

Karl, still somewhat endorphin drunk, wasn’t inclined to speculate about the emotional health of their cast mates.  “Not that I’d noticed, but then, I’m not the one with the crush on Captain Cardigan.”

That earned him punch and a suspicious Look.  “You’re not jealous, are you?”

With a lazy smile, Karl rolled his hips to remind Anton that he was still buried inside him after a round of marathon fucking.  “I’m a number of things right now, but jealous isn’t one of them.”

They snickered quietly at each other, and reluctantly pulled apart to begin the clean up process.  While they brushed their teeth, Anton broached the subject again.

“Seriously, I think Chris could stand to blow off a little steam…and I think we are just the men to help him do it.”

Karl stared down at him, and Anton took the toothbrush out of his mouth to stare back before slowly breaking into a foamy, though no less devious, grin.

A grin that found itself mirrored on the big Kiwi’s face.

“Okay,” Karl conceded.  “Go get ‘im, tiger.”

+++

Chris’ back was a mass of pain.

It was like every single interview set up was actually a torture chamber, complete with an iron maiden disguised as a simple, innocuous plastic chair whose back barely reached past his waist and whose seat was designed to contort his spine into eighty-four thousand inhuman configurations over the course of an eight hour day.  Seriously, fuck those chairs.  With a shovel.

When the knock came, it felt like three crisp blows dealt directly to his spine.

“What,” he called flatly.  He’d put up a do not disturb, so the only people who would bother him now would be the people he’d just left in the lobby.

“It’s Anton.  You busy?”

Shit, not Anton.  He could say fuck off to any of them, even Zach, but not Anton and his wibbly eyes.  Bracing himself for another round of cajoling and _Please Chris, it’s no fun if you don’t come_ (wasn’t that the truth), he cracked open the door.  “Hey, Anton.  Weren’t you and the others going out?”

Anton ducked his head for a moment before looking back up to meet his eyes squarely.  “I’m not old enough to get in the club.”

Oh.  Damn.  “I’m sorry, man, that sucks.  Couldn’t they have picked a different place?”

Anton shrugged, all apparent nonchalance that failed to reach his eyes.  “It’s no big deal.  I’m sick of clubs anyway.”

“Yeah, right.”  His back screamed at him to send the kid away, but the eyes, damn it, they were wibbling!  “Do you wanna come in, maybe hang out?”

When Anton hesitated, he swung the door open farther.  “Come on.  I insist.  I’ll pout if you don’t.”  _Take that, you wibbly shits.  Try these baby blues on for size._

Anton bit his lip, as though trying to decide if this was charity or sincerity.  Apparently he settled on the latter, because he agreed, ducking his head bashfully as he passed Chris on his way into the room.  “Thanks.”

When he overcame his apparent shyness enough to look up, he couldn’t miss how stiffly Chris was moving as he eased himself into a chair.  “Are you okay, man?”

Fuck, his right side was locking up.  “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just my back.”

Anton hummed sympathetically.  “It’s the interviews, isn’t it?  I thought you looked a little stiff.”

“Yeah it’s those fucking chairs, they—what?”  Anton had approached and taken him by the elbow and was…leading him to bed?

“Take your shirt off and lie down.”

There was only one way to answer that.  “No.”

“Okay, but this won’t feel nearly as good with it on.”  Anton had disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared holding a bottle of complimentary lotion.  He squeezed a huge dollop of it onto his palm before greasing both hands up thoroughly.  “Whoa whoa whoa, Anton, what the hell are you thinking?”

“I know, it’s better with oil, but they don’t have any.  I even used KY once, it was a little sticky but it did the trick—”

“— _Anton_.  What are you talking about?”

Anton stared at him like he’d been the one babbling about sexual lubricants.  “I was gonna give you a massage.”

Ah.  Better, but he needed further clarification.  “On my back?”

Anton pulled a face and Chris felt at least one knot of tension relax.  “Yes on your back, you big freak, what did you think I meant?  My parents were athletes; I know a thing or two about muscle pain.”

“Right.  Sorry.  I’m not thinking too clearly.”  He shucked his shirt, grimacing at the stretch, and laid down as eagerly as he could.  “Thanks for this, by the way.  You’re a godsend.”

“No big.”  He straddled Chris and sat down, right on top of his ass.

If Chris could stiffen any further, he would have.

Anton sighed.  “Would you calm down?  This isn’t a massage bed; I can’t do this properly from any other position.”

“…Okay.”  Okay.  It was nice, even, Anton’s weight pulling his spine straight.  He managed not to flinch at the first touch of Anton’s warm, slippery hands spreading the lotion over his shoulders and on down either side of his spine, stopping far enough above his exposed boxers to keep Chris from protesting.  When he had his whole back slicked up and shining, Anton went to work.

“Ohhhh my _godddddd_.”  Chris was dimly aware that the moans rippling up and out of his throat were obscene but he really, _really_ didn’t care.  Anton’s sturdy hands sought and found every knot in his back and worked it smoothly, methodically unkinking Chris’ spine from the bottom up.  A very pleasant warmth began to radiate out from his touch, setting his whole body humming.  When Anton reached the top and dug deep into his trapezius muscles, he couldn’t prevent another groan.  “Anton.  _Jesus_.  You’re so fucking good at this.”

“I know,” Anton replied smugly.  “Karl loves it when I do this for him.”

God, this felt good.  He could feel all the tension sliding away…wait.  “Karl?  You make a habit of giving him back rubs?”  And was Anton rocking his hips?

“Yeah, sometimes.  Of course, I’m usually the reason he needs them.”

That could not possibly mean what Chris thought it meant.  He was about to say as much, but then Anton’s fingers were massaging the sensitive pressure points behind his ears, effectively killing Chris’ higher thought processes even as he rolled his hips forward, pressing…oh my God…an erection, Anton had an erection and he was pressing it into his ass.

A thousand questions stormed through Chris’ head, but he only managed one word:  “What?”

“Karl.  I rub him down when I’ve worked him a bit too hard.”  Now his hands were stroking the long muscles on either side of Chris’ neck.  “When we’ve been fucking for hours and his back’s one big mass of kinks from holding me up…or holding me down.”

Chris stiffened in an entirely different area of his anatomy.  “You and Karl?”

“Yeah.”  Anton was definitely rocking his hips, the motion pressing Chris’ own erection down into the mattress.  “He moans almost as loud as you do.”

Chris could see Karl, sweaty and scruffy and…New Zealandish, damn it, going to pieces under Anton’s touch, much the same way Chris was going to pieces now.  “I can only imagine.”

Anton snickered; he couldn’t ask for a better opening than that.  “You could do more than imagine, Chris.  You could see it.  Hear it.  _Feel_ it.”

Anton was definitely talking about watching him give Karl a back rub.  That was the only thing he could possibly be referring to.

The erection digging into his ass begged to differ.  “How about it, Chris?”  Anton’s hands had wandered lower, to skim along his waist and hips.  “You wanna see all the ways I can make Karl moan?”

Chris’ only response was to sink his teeth into his pillow.

Anton grinned and stood, giving Chris’ ass a little pat.  God, the man was adorable.  “When you’ve finished debating it, come up to my room.”

Chris gathered himself enough to scoff.  “Is that a request or a command?”

Anton returned the scoff as he bent over and spoke very deliberately, his breath fanning over the back of Chris’ neck as one hand slid beneath him to squeeze his erection.  “It’s a command.”

While Chris was still processing that, Anton walked out.

+++

Ten minutes later, Chris was knocking on Anton’s door.

He was utterly unprepared for something to crash into the other side.

After a great deal of rattling, it creaked open, and Chris felt that he couldn’t be blamed if he poked it open cautiously instead of just walking in.  When he saw what awaited him just beyond, however, he got in and shut it behind him in a hurry.

“You guys work fast,” Chris breathed.  He leaned against the wall, happy to watch as Karl and Anton thoroughly molested each other.

“Practice makes perfect,” Karl bit out as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt one handed, dexterous for a guy getting his soul sucked out through his dick.  The other hand was corded in Anton’s hair, less to guide and more to hang on for dear life as Anton worked him.

He turned to wink at Chris, his cheek bulging with Karl’s cock, and Chris almost came on the spot.  He slid one hand into his pocket, drawing a chuckle from Karl.

“You know, that works a lot better with your clothes off.”

Chris raised his eyebrows, then addressed himself to Anton, who politely pulled his mouth off of Karl’s cock to listen.  “I thought you just brought me here to watch.”

Anton grinned and waved one elegant hand in a flourish.  “Come for the floorshow, stay to get fucked within an inch of your life.”

Chris could pretty much live with that.  He shucked his shirt off for the second time that night and suddenly found himself with an armful of naked Anton, who started kissing him very thoroughly.  Chris realized he could taste Karl on Anton’s lips and groaned, feeling the sensible part of his mind beginning to fragment into tiny, insignificant little pieces.  The hands efficiently yanking open his belt and trousers while he toed off his shoes only sped the process.

Finally Anton had Chris’ pants off and was reaching for his underwear when he suddenly seemed to reconsider.  Instead, he dropped his hands and backed into Karl’s arms.  They wrapped themselves around each other and just.  Stared.  Took him in.  Chris Pine, scruffy and stripped and straining at the soft white cotton of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

They quirked their eyebrows in unconscious unison, making Chris flinch.  “You two are depraved.  _Seriously_.  You need to be locked up in a padded room and kept away from the general public.”

Anton broke into a grin, not raising his eyes from Chris’ bulge.  “Oh really?  Are we also wearing restraints in this fantasy of yours?”

“Easy, Anton.”  Karl had dragged his gaze upward to examine Chris’ face.  “You’ll spook him.”

That was a bit more that Chris’ pride could take.  “Fat chance, Urban.”  He strode forward into the challenge and Anton quickly slipped away sideways as they crashed together, Chris propelling Karl backward to sit on the bed and be straddled.  Karl left off his very enthusiastic groping long enough to move them until he was leaning against the headboard and Anton could climb on behind Chris.

Karl broke the kiss to abuse Chris’ neck and chest with his teeth and Chris fell back into Anton’s arms, effectively jumping from the frying pan into the fire as Anton proceeded to kiss him senseless.

Karl, meanwhile, was getting an eyeful of Chris’ crotch, and decided he wanted more than just a close look.  Seizing the younger man’s hips, he pushed up and back until he and Anton were spooned against the footboard.

“Hold him,” he ordered, giving Anton a look full of intentions that had Chris feeling distinctly nervous.

Anton seemed to interpret the telegram, because he looped his wiry arms under Chris’ to hold them out at his sides and, as an afterthought, bent his legs on either side of Chris’ torso to keep him from rolling out of position.

Chris, meanwhile, was trying to count to ten and _chilllll_ because he knew he could break away from Anton if he needed to and he was pretty sure both men would stop if he asked but at the same time Karl was still giving him that _look_ and he was, honestly, feeling more than a little out of his depth, here, with Anton’s erection(Anton’s freaking erection!!!) digging into his back and Karl lowering his head to oh… _ohhhhhhh._

Karl looked up to watch his reaction, not pausing in his delicate task of lapping at Chris’ left testicle where it rested inside his briefs.  He kept the pressure light, teasing, maddening, causing Chris to twist in Anton’s hold.  Anton groaned and whispered his approval, as Chris’ every moment sent the muscles of his back rippling and skimming over his cock.

Karl pressed his lips to the wet spot he’d created and sucked, earning a resounding moan.

“Good boy,” Anton whispered.  “So sensitive.  So responsive.”

Chris would have liked to respond to that, or at least start begging, but Karl was wriggling his tongue through the slit in his briefs, the point of his tongue slicking over the side of his cock and fuck, Chris could hardly breathe, let alone speak.  All he could do was writhe weakly.  Anton’s teeth started nibbling at his ear before sinking into his earlobe sharply, the sudden bright pain serving to snap Chris out of his stupor.

“Mother fucker!  Come on come on, please stop teasing…”

“He’s still polysyllabic,” Anton mused, frowning.  He released Chris’ arms to roll his nipples speculatively, and narrowly escaped a broken nose when Chris threw his head back in a silent scream.  “Ah, there we go.”

Karl’s laughter rumbling against his cock made Chris spasm, hard.  “Please!”

“What do you think, Anton?” Karl asked, finally freeing Chris of the tight briefs.  “Is he ready?”

“ _I’m_ ready,” Anton replied.  “Chris, sit up for a minute, babe.”

Chris decided not to comply and went boneless instead, so the other men had to work a little to pull his briefs down his legs and push him closer to the middle of the bed.  _Haha, you teasing fucks..  That’s what you get._   He felt a little proud of himself as he listened to their grunts—Chris was by no means a lightweight—but any trace of smugness vanished when Anton rose over him to straddle his neck.

Anton had seen Chris look strikingly beautiful many, many times, but there was something unequivocally appealing about seeing him staring up at him from between his thighs, mouth hanging open as if to accept the host.  He fed him his erection instead, but Chris nudged it aside with his cheek press kisses to Anton’s inner thigh.  His eyes burned a path up Anton’s body, past his very nicely proportioned cock, glistening with precome, and on up his flat, hard stomach to his budded nipples, wicked grin and half-lidded eyes.  When Chris finally accepted his cock in his mouth Anton hissed, gorgeously, one hand reaching to cup Chris’ shorn head while he cradled his own balls in the other.

The first touch of Karl’s slicked fingers against his opening made Chris flinch and Anton snicker.  “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,” he groaned, rocking his hips languidly.

No rush. They had hours.

The motion set the muscles of his belly rippling in a very appealing way.  Chris reached up to run his hands over them, groaning when he did.  Anton felt like he was carved out of living wood, every inch of him hard and tight.  The sight and feel of him was more than enough to distract him from the moment of discomfort when Karl pushed one blunt finger inside.

“How is he?” Anton asked, craning his neck around to watch.

“Tight,” Karl replied, stretching him carefully before adding another finger.  “He must make Zach bottom most of the time.”

Anton looked back down at Chris, who glared as well as he could with a dick in his mouth.  Smirking, Anton pulled out, and stroked himself while they waited for an answer.

“Zach likes bottominggggg!” Chris explained, keening when Karl scissored his fingers.  “Fuck!  Do that again… _yes_ …and I happen to not mind fucking him.”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind getting fucked tonight.”  Karl hooked his hands under Chris’ knees, bending them to cant his hips up.

Chris didn’t mind, as a matter of fact, and would have said as much, but Anton chose that moment to slip back between his lips, and when Karl drew out his fingers to replace them with his cock, Chris had to focus all of his attention on not biting down.

Karl continued to bend his legs forward, practically folding him in half.  “Hold him,” he said again to Anton, who reached back and curled his hands around Chris’ calves, keeping him spread open for Karl’s thrusts.  The angle of his hips sent Karl rocking into his prostate at every thrust, and this combined with the salty taste of precome spreading across his tongue had Chris moaning steadily, in beautiful deep bursts that had Anton arching appreciatively and Karl feeling immensely smug.

“How is he?” the Kiwi asked, his voice somewhat strained, and Chris drifted enough out of his haze to realize he cared about Anton’s answer.

“Oh, he’s good,” Anton purred.  “Keep using your tongue like that…yeah…”

“Keep talking,” Karl whispered, and Anton proceeded to do exactly that.

“Fuck, Chris, where’d you learn to suck dick?”  He started to pump his cock a little farther, smirking when Chris choked before adjusting to the deeper penetration.  “I bet you’ve been doing this for years, you slut.  Anyone who got a good look at those lips of yours would _know_ you were a born cock sucker.”

_God_ , this shouldn’t be so hot, those filthy words sliding out of Anton’s mouth, but it was, it was hot, like a hand between his thighs, or the grip of Anton’s hands on his calves, or Karl’s hands on his hips.  There were hands everywhere, it seemed, except for where he really wanted them, and he reached for himself, eager to remedy the situation.

A hand knocked his away, and then Karl was leaning forward, pinning Chris’ wrists to the bed as he continued to fuck him, speeding his thrusts.  “Now now, Christopher, you mustn’t get ahead of yourself,” he admonished, and Chris would have a reply for that if he wasn’t busy tonguing Anton into incoherency. 

Karl began to thrust harder, jarring both of the younger men and raising a medley of groans.  “You have to stay hard, so that after I come in you, Anton can fuck you in my place.”

“Fuck!” burst out of Anton’s mouth, and he let go of one of Chris’ legs to grip the base of his own cock.  “Hurry, Karl, I can’t last if you talk like that!”

“Oh, you’ll last,” Karl gasped, maintaining his steady pace.  “Don’t you dare come, either of you.”

The scene took on a new tone, as every jerk of Karl’s hips served to torture the two younger men.  It seemed to escalate impossibly, as Chris took out his frustrations on the cock in his mouth.  His wrists were contorting madly in Karl’s grip as he struggled to get a hand, or even a single finger, on his own erection, but Karl held on cruelly, denying him even second’s contact.  Anton, for his part, got rougher, angling his hips to fuck down into Chris’ throat, muffling his choked off cries and unintelligible pleas.

Just as well.  Anton was begging enough for the both of them.  “Shit, Karl, come on!  Please!  My dick’s fucking _aching--_!”

Chris let out a burst of moans that seemed to mean, _You’re telling me, God damn it!_

“Kids…these…days,” Karl grated in time with his thrusts.  “No…stamina…”

Chris wrenched one hand free and managed to brush his erection with his fingertips before Karl wrestled it down again.  Chris _roared_ around Anton’s cock, making the Russian whimper and curse, and their combined sounds were enough to pitch Karl over the edge.  He pumped one spurt into Chris’ ass, then pulled out and came all over his belly and Anton’s back.

He got to savor the afterglow for about half a second before Anton knocked him on his side and shoved himself inside Chris, sliding easily into his wet passage and rutting, hard and fast.  When Chris wrapped his fingers around himself and began to wail Karl swiped his fingers through the trails of seed he’d left on his belly and fed it to him, murmuring for him to keep sucking, he was so good at it.

Chris had the presence of mind to scowl at him and bite down, _hard_ , before he tore his mouth away to scream out his orgasm, adding copious new trails to the ones on his belly.  Anton pulled out and stroked himself once, twice before adding his own seed to the mess, the image of Chris looking utterly defiled the last thing he saw before darkness swamped his vision.

+++

When Anton came to, both older men were sprawled on their backs, snoring uproariously.

He had to laugh, especially at sweet, classy Chris, who was covered in semen and love bites, his already full lips swollen and obscene.  God, if only he had a camera.  His cock twitched weakly and he fondled himself for a moment, but for once in his life he was all fucked out.

He wriggled in between them, unapologetically elbowing the others awake to make sure they gave him a fair share of the blankets.  He barely fit between them, but hey: sometimes it paid to be the little guy.

Chris resettled himself facing Anton.  “I have a question.”  He paused, as though to gather his thoughts, but they were still scattered somewhere to the far reaches of the room so he just spat it out.  “If we ever do this again…would my invitation read Chris Pine, or Chris Pine _and guest?_ ”

Anton stared at him, then whipped his head around to stare at Karl, who was grinning broadly.

When the other two licked their lips in unison, Chris knew that they were in.


End file.
